Weak
by JadedEpiphany
Summary: All she knew in that moment was the scorching pain, burning like molten lava coursing through her veins as every muscle in her body was stretched to tearing. Weak. She was so weak. Rated M for suggestive themes


**A/N: Written for the OTP Competition and the Femslash Challenge.**

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With her honey brown gaze narrowed, Hermione Granger stared down her opponent with an air of subtle nervousness. Her right hand gripped her vine wood wand tightly, body trembling with anticipation. Her tongue darted out to wet her pale pink lips before she lowered her head in the traditional bow. She prided herself on being quite practical and intelligent and the most cherished part of her brain made her wonder if perhaps she had been too impulsive in her request.

The witch opposite her, near comically stark in contrast, gave an incline of her own head, arching a thick dark brow as a smirk spread across her blood red mouth. Her own curved walnut wand was raised and at the ready though she wasn't trembling. Her heart pounded out an excited cadence against her ribcage as the familiar warmth of her magic flooded the very fibers of her being. It had been far too long since she had had a good duel and while her feelings for the Muggleborn that stood across from her weren't the slightest bit malicious, Bellatrix Black relished the moment just as much as she would have had she been about to fight to the death.

"Any second thoughts, then?" Bellatrix asked on a murmur, her voice richly low and sinuous as it curled about the empty room like smoke. Under any other circumstance it would have elicited a wanton shudder from Hermione who had heard the same tone used in various other compromising situations involving her black haired lover, very little clothing, and rumpled bed sheets. But given the matter in which the two now found themselves, it would have been deemed inappropriate and an underhanded tactic on Bella's end to boot. She gave a slight shake of her head instead.

"Whenever you're ready."

"Crucio."

The vicious bolt of red light shot from the tip of the black wand with deadly accuracy and Hermione crumpled instantly as the pain of a thousand stabbing knives assaulted her body. She screamed, a horrible sound torn from her core as she convulsed violently, writhing piteously trying to escape the agony. It seemed to go on for hours and hours instead of the actual ten seconds. When the curse was finally lifted, she couldn't breathe. She lay on her back coughing, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

"Oh come now dearie," Bellatrix crooned sweetly, lowering her wand with a pout, "It doesn't hurt that badly, does it? Besides you _asked._"

Hermione gasps for air were the only response she could make. Perhaps it had been a mistake, requesting to subject herself to the torture curse especially at the hands of one of the few people in the Wizarding world who possessed a profound aptitude for it. But how else would she build a tolerance for the pain unless she could be given a regular dose? The war had ended yes and things were quiet. But the rise of another Dark Lord was imminent and as long as she remained a member of the Golden Trio and _now_ the Mudblood who had managed to corrupt Lord Voldemort's most faithful follower, she would forever be a target. Or that was her train of thought when she had made the ridiculous request that morning at breakfast. It had seemed like a practical idea at the time even with Bella's reaction.

"You _want _me use Crucio on you?" the raven haired witch had all but yelled, upsetting her jug of Firewhiskey laced pumpkin juice all over the table, "Have you _snapped_ your wand girl?"

But she had been adamant. And now she had been rendered all but incapacitated by a mere few seconds of the curse. Her weakness disgusted her. She had fought in a war for Merlin's sake, gone round all of bloody England on a life threatening search for Voldemort's Horcruxes, had been tortured before by the woman who would eventually become her soul mate. And she had still folded.

It was enough of an incentive for her to reach for her dropped wand and drag herself to her feet.

Bellatrix's smile of pride made her heart skip a beat.

"Good girl," she murmured softly, eying Hermione through thick lashes as she raised her wand once more, "The trick is to concentrate. It's all in your mind, the pain. Fighting it only makes it worse. Your body will react to it but it's your mind that must stay sharp. Do you understand?"

The brunette nodded once, bracing herself and willing her heart rate to slow.

"_Crucio_."

She fell to her knees with a shriek. It was like being set ablaze, made even more intense by the residual thrums of pain from the previous assault. Her jaw clenched tight enough that she thought her teeth might break from the strain. _Mind over matter. Mind over matter. _It was a simple theory in an out of itself but when subject to the throes of the venomous hex, it made about as much sense as a flying dog. Or Bellatrix donning a hot pink apron and baking cookies. All she knew in that moment was the scorching pain, burning like molten lava coursing through her veins as every muscle in her body was stretched to tearing. Weak. She was so weak.

The spell was lifted and Hermione braced herself with her hands, palms sweaty, chest heaving and she combated with a wave of nausea that rolled through her belly.

"Fifteen seconds that time," Bellatrix said with a nod, twirling her wand between her fingers, "Better."

Hermione shook her head violently. "Do it again."

"That's enough, I think, my muddy little masochist." Her lover came to crouch beside her, using a long pale finger to raise her chin so that their eyes were level. "Best not have _too _much fun."

But the younger witch scowled, jerking away from the touch to shakily rise to her feet. "_Again_ Bella. Do it again."

Bellatrix regarded the girl with a cold resolve fixed in her onyx gaze as she too stood. "No."

"_Why?_ You _want _me to be weak forever? A poor sniveling Mudblood who can't handle a little pain? Forever trailing along in the shadows of witches and wizards who are stronger than she is? Is that what _you_ want?" Her voice had escalated and she was bordering on hysterics.

"Hermione you are many things but foolish isn't one of them," said Bellatrix in a strangely calm tone, "You are not now, nor have ever been weak."

"Don't patronize me Bellatrix Black!"

"Shut it. If I wanted to patronize you, you would be on your back with my face between your legs making you cum until you begged me to stop. Listen to me. There is nothing weak about you. Do you think someone weak would have succeeded in making me abandon the Dark Lord? Do you think someone weak would have even turned my head? Captured what was left of my heart and restored it? Someone weak would not have _requested_ to be tortured. Potentially insane. But not weak."

She lifted a hand to thumb away the wetness from Hermione's hot cheeks, "Dry your eyes. You know I hate your tears."

Sniffling, Hermione did as was bid with a dry chuckle. "You relish screams of pain but are bothered by tears."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes with theatric wave of her hand, "Your tears, love. Don't feel special. Now come, that got boring quickly. Let me pour us some Firwhiskey and lick your wounds clean." The last bit was said in that _tone_ and Hermione this time did not suppress the shudder of the anticipation of said licking.

It was one form of torture she knew she could endure for more than fifteen seconds before succumbing to her screams.


End file.
